In the Best Interest
by JaniceHope
Summary: What would happen if David Warner is very unhappy about the nature of Blair's relationship to Jo?
1. In the Best Interest 1

Category: Hurt, no comfort

Summary: What would happen if David Warner is very unhappy about the nature of Blair's relationship to Jo?

Disclaimer: Character death

Beta: doughts

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**In The Best Interest**

„Jo! Oh, Jo! I am so sorry!" Blair sobbed.

The former heiress of Warner Industries sat barefooted, dressed in a plain white hospital gown. She was huddled in a corner of her bare hospital room that had been her 'home' for some years now. Her body gently rocked back and forth as she shed her tears, arms hugging herself for comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, a visitor stood behind the large mirror window and observed her grieving.

No one, not even her friends, would have recognized this broken human as the former Blair Warner, heiress of Warner Industries. It was pity to look at her. She had so much promise once. Intelligent, beautiful and aware of the demands of a high profile social life. Nothing was left of that now. Only a shell of that promise sat on that floor. The visitor shook his head. Even in this state of being it wasn't proper for her to sit there.

He turned to the woman next to him. She was a doctor paid by him to solely treat the young woman in that room. He gave her instructions and the doctor confirmed this with a nod and a crisp: "Yes, Mr. Warner!"

The doctor had no scruples in carrying out what she was ordered to do. She was paid to well to be burdened by those.

She and two heavy male nurses entered the room. Before the door to the room closed, loud voices, a terrified scream and shuffling could be heard in the hallway. Then there was silence and with loud click the door closed, effectively muffling every other sounds from the inside.

The CEO of Warner Industries had left before he could witness what was happing to his daughter. He was on his way to his yearly visits to the person who in his opinion was responsible for the whole situation.

David Warner stopped in front of a black stone. White letters brightly proclaimed the name and the picture above them smiled onto the fresh bundle of flowers that lay on the grass. They were probably left by the parents.  
David Warner deliberately crushed the blossoms of the bouquet with his shiny hand made shoes.  
He was an angry man.  
And especially angry at the dead person lying here that still was very much present, as his visit to his daughter had proven. He himself had conjured this haunting ghost when he had ordered his most trusted men to run over Jo Polniaczeck on her bike with a truck.  
Nobody could have forseen that only a couple of yards away from that scene his daughter had been an eyewitness to the accident. Nobody could foresee that Blair Warner would helplessly watch her girlfriend dying in her arms, or that she would be there to witness the gruesome death.

He spat on the gravestone that showed the devilishly smiling face of the young woman that had stolen his daughter away from him in more ways than he could have ever imagined.  
His daughter had blamed herself for the death at first and it had broken her heart. With time and his attentive care she had gotten better. Then the idea to look for justice had emerged in his daughters head.  
She had gone on a mad quest for justice. Once she had figured out the truth and who and what was the real reason for the accident, she had sworn revenge against her father.

Once again David Warner had been forced to act in the best interest and to keep the good reputation of his company intact before his daughter would tarnish it with her wild accusations. He sighed.  
He was lucky enough to have a second daughter. He turned and walked to the car waiting for him. He was confident to do a better job as father with her. 

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Thank you for reading. Feedback would be most appreciated.


	2. In the Best Interest 2

Endless praise for my beta doughts and his patience to work with me sentence for sentence.

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Blair POV

She was swimming or flying. She couldn't tell, but it was awfully quiet except for the pulsing sound of blood rushing through her veins. Her body felt so light and it seemed to drift aimlessly through the space. She couldn't remember, but it wasn't important anyway. At the end of her journey, she knew, pain was waiting for her. Always.  
Time didn't matter. Time never could be matter. It was relative, going faster or slower depending on were you where. Moving or standing. Dali had painted it. She had seen time, distorted long-legged elephants had taken him and the holy one home. Colors, such wonderful color everywhere. And like fine sand in a breeze the picture and the colors drifted apart.

Oh no! It's here again, the blackness. The arbitrary tool of power. It came closer. She slowed down, couldn't move anymore. It was almost there! She had to get away. Away! Panic rose. But she was trapped. Helpless. No! Suddenly, the blackness was all around her. There was no escape and the pain was back. It was rushing over her like a giant wave crushing against the shore, flowing away and then coming back to crush again and again. No. No. No! She screamed.

Long hours later the pain had subsided to a dull throbbing and itching of her skin. Everything felt harsh, hard, painful. Her body was no longer weightlessly floating. It ached. Her skin was sweaty, her hair greasy and unkempt. Wild strands of it clung to her face. Her throat was parched and the itching wouldn't stop. She was nauseous. But that didn't stop her efforts. Like an animal she tried to get rid of the itching, scratching and biting herself to get some relief from her torment.

_Shhhh! _Restraints restricted her movement. She was breathing hard from the exertion of pulling on them. Bile rose in her throat.

_Shhhh! _Someone was there in the darkness, trying to calm her. Who?

"Hello?" she tried to say, but nothing more than a croaking sound actually escaped her throat. She tried again. This time she managed a "lo?" Better than nothing. She could hear footsteps getting closer. Bright light blinded her painfully. The intensity pierced into her skull.  
There were strangers with her and the person that had been there before was gone. Or had they hidden? The strangers talked. Unable to open her eyes, she strained her ears to pick up the sound again.

"Oh, look at the mess she made."

"I hate it when she does that."

"Must have been some trip. Let's clean her up."

Rough hands picked at her and she screamed again.

"Hold still!"

She didn't wanted to be touched. She didn't want strangers to see her. She felt violated, ashamed. They used a rough washrag on her. She whimpered in despair. She was trying to fight back to keep her dignity.

"Hold still, Bitch!"

More pain. Someone hit her repeatedly. She tasted metal.

"Stop fooling around. Put her in the hold and immobilize her."

There was nothing she could do. They cleaned her and she had to endure it.

_Shhhh!_ The soothing noise. It was back. It was close. She sobbed in relief and stopped fighting. Eventually they dressed her in something clean and left the room.

She couldn't believe her luck. They had left her unbound and the itching was gone. The light was still on. It was uncomfortable, but better than the painful darkness. She walked a few steps of limited freedom. She was alone, always alone. Gnawing on her fingernails she looked around her room, 15ft by 15ft of white concrete walls and a tiled area for the toilet and sink. A table in a corner, a chair next to her bed. Everything in mind numbing white. Nothing had changed.

She looked at her bare feet, wiggeling her toes. The ground was dangerous territory. She perched on the chair, hugging her knees, seeking comfort in her own presence. The linen felt rough against the skin of her face. The texture of the fabric consoled her after all the pain and the nothing.

"_Hey."_

Her head snapped up from her crossed arms on top of her legs. She squinted her eyes to see what was happening. There was something but she couldn't quite see it.

"_You have to drink something. See, they left you some water." _

She turned her head toward the small table in the room. Indeed there was a cup and two bottles. Plastic ones of course, so she couldn't hurt herself or others with them. She took the cup. Her lips hurt, so she sipped carefully. She hadn't realized just how thirsty she was. It didn't take long for the cup to be empty. She felt better now. Clearer. "Who are you?"

"_Shh! Don't talk. Or they will know!" _The voice was so familiar.

Jo.

The pain so deep inside her bloomed and withered at the same time.

"Jo, is that you?" Was it really her? Where was she? Why couldn't she see her?

"_What did I just say?"_

"Sorry, I am so sorry." She started to cry. If this voice was really Jo... what was she?

"_Don't cry. I'm here. Trust me, please. Just be quiet and listen to me, okay?"_

She nodded. She trusted and listened.

"_Good. - My god, you're a mess._ _What did they do to you?_"

She shrugged. There weren't any reflecting surfaces since the last one she had shattered. It wasn't important anyway. There were no visitors. No one ever came to see her. She didn't even know how long she had been here now. Days, weeks, month and years were without meaning. There was no purpose. She was alive, that was all. In some ways it was worse than prison.

"_At least in prison you have rights, here you have nothing!_"

That was true. The room was mostly white. Stains had been painted over. But she still knew where she had made dents in the wall and her blood had spattered. She had panicked because she felt like she was suffocating. Her breath caught in her throat. She had tried to claw her way out, running repeatedly against the wall, nearly succeeding in taking her life.

As a result the two red dots in the corners on the ceiling were watching her constantly. They send her dreaming or put her in restraints every time she panicked now.

"_What a bunch of creeps!_"

She occupied herself as best as she could. She made figures of animals or people out of the toilet paper she was provided with. It wasn't exactly origami, but that way she could do something, talk and hear the sound of her own voice without them sticking a needle into her skin. And she didn't feel so alone until they inevitably took the figures away. Couldn't have her litter the room.  
once in a while, she was allowed to draw on real paper, although never people. More often, she was given religious texts to read. She tore these texts into tiny, tiny pieces. There was no god.

"_Now show some respect!_"

Respect? Respect? For what? An imaginary friend that always needs more money, more power, more everything from you for its cause. So it can corrupt more people? So it was OK to put someone in a room and throw away the key? The morality of that creature was vile. Every three year old child had more morals, animals had more morals than the god they fed her with. Real love would never be conditional. You love someone despite their flaws and not because they try their best to please and worship you. That's not love, that's celestial dictatorship. Which being would watch people suffer and do nothing about it? That was the difference between god and her. If she saw people who suffered she'd help them if she could. But not act with the indifference that she encountered. The same one that enabled the red dots watching her.

"_Are you finished with your rant now?_"

No, she wasn't. She had every right to be angry. She wanted revenge. She wanted...

"_You have to get out of here!"_

She knew that. There was just no way. She had tried that a couple of times. They had put her in electroshock therapy as punishment. It had been painful and embarrassing to lose the last thing she had control over – her body. The worst was that it made her forget simple things. Jo's smile. Her favorite fluffy toy. Her own name. Her friends. Did she ever had friends? Why weren't they looking for her?

"_You'll find another way. We will!"_

If only. What could she do?

"_Learn. Watch. Gain their trust. Build your strength. I'll be there when you need me."_

But they'd come again tomorrow with their drugs and she'd be at square one.

_"Then we start again. I'll always be at your side."_

It sounded so easy. But what had she to lose? This wasn't a life anyway. Didn't she want to be a rich artist or some other kind of successful, happy woman once? The memory was fuzzy. She had goal. She could set a new one.

"_Come on. Move. Get started. You know what you have to do!"_

Her muscles protested. She remembered training. There had been music. No such luxury now. But she remembered the movements. Slowly first. A few repetitions. Then it got better_._

_"Mens sana in corpore sano."_

A mantra. She felt sweaty again. But she wasn't dead anymore. Her body hummed. There was nothing else to do. And tomorrow she'd start again.

"_We will start again!"_

Right. Exercise. Count the repetitions.

"_Start counting."_

10-9-8-7-6...

Feedback is the fuel that drives me. Thank you.


	3. In the Best Interest 3

Again, thank you doughts, for your continued patience and diligence.

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"One hundred nine! One hundred nine! One hundred nine!" She was doing sit-ups, saying the same number over and over again. It seemed like she was mentally challenged to the outsider, but it was the only way. The count was the number of days preparing her latest escape plan, each one a little victory. A sort of war chant. It kept her sane.

"_Would you stop doing that? The counting is giving me a headache."_

"You? What about me? I just don't want to forget." Don't forget. Never forget again.

"_Just stop saying it out loud or you will arouse suspicion and it's driving me crazy."_

"Eh, no. One hundred nine! It's a great cover. Besides, I'm the one considered crazy." She laughed at that. She probably was crazy, but so far they had not broken her.

"_Gimme a break. Just stop counting out loud." _

She switched her routine from sit-ups to push-ups. She hated doing them. But it didn't stop her. She needed the strength. And the counting was important. She remembered the numbers even through repeated panic attacks and after being medicated. But what they didn't know was that she had marked the days or what she thought were days on a hidden spot on her bed or at least what she thought were the days, lacking a reliable way to keep time.  
She even made a separate count for her lost time when she got drugged. Both counts helped her to remember her goal. It gave her back some control in her life and she wasn't without purpose anymore.

"_So is everything prepared? You did notice that Jin-ho has the night shift today?"_

Everything was, actually. Not that there was much to prepare. She just had to get the timing right and hope that whatever was beyond the wouldn't keep her here.  
She feared what might happen if it all went wrong.

Timing was the key. Normally they checked on her at least twice during the night cycle, which was disturbing in itself, but she had gotten used to the pattern of behavior of her captors.

The nurse Jin-ho was lazy. He often did his checks just minutes apart and left her alone until they switched on the lights.  
She was grateful though, this was her ticket to get out unnoticed. The only chance she had. If she failed this time like she had with previous attempts and they recaptured her, she'd stay in this room until she died or maybe they would kill her immediately after her return. She wouldn't and couldn't allow herself to fail.  
The thought about the possible repercussions made her heave. She stopped her push-ups, her arms quivering from exhaustion, breathing heavily. I would say she quickly went to the sink to splash water on her skin to cool off. She willed herself not to raise any suspicion of the red-eye or show more of her duress. She stilled her thirst and went back to the middle of her room. She centered her self then started running on the spot.

"_You won't fail. Just concentrate on the task at hand. You'll be fine. Trust me, OK?"_

She trusted. Of course she did. The prospect of what might be frightened her. Yet she wanted out of here. If she stayed here doing nothing, she would surely die in this room, one way or another. She wasn't sure what would be worse, living out her natural life as an isolated prisoner or being put down by them. They sure had been close to do that with their actions in past. Her life hung on a very thin thread. Once she had realized that she'd started to act more cautiously under the watchful red-eyes. But from time to time the grasp on her control had cracked or shattered and she had to reconstruct herself carefully after these break downs.  
How would it be on the outside? How far would she make it before they caught her?  
She couldn't remember the last time she had seen and touched a real tree, seen the sun outside, seen anything but the same five male nurses, the female doc and her room. Must have been around the time she lost so many of her precious memories during the relocation for the electroshock therapy. "Therapy," she snorted. That had been no therapy. She was healthy and they wanted to punish her for her continued resistance against their demands, orders and indoctrination. How long ago was that? Two or three years, maybe longer.

"_Don't dwell on the past!"_

Dwelling. There would be no dwelling tonight. Tonight her plan...

_"Don't fuck it up!"_

_.._the plan would go into action.

The door to her room unlocked, the keys clanged against the metal of the look. As always they didn't bother to knock.

Two nurses entered, one with her food on a paper plate. The other stepped in front of her. There had been a time when only one of the nurses entered her room. She knew some incident had happened with one of them. They had done something to her. But she had almost no recollection and if she didn't have raised scars like bracelets around both her wrists she might not even remember anything happen at all. But they were there undeniably and the nurses now always came in pairs.

She looked the man in front of her directly in the eye.

_"Don't provoke him! Don't do anything tonight."_

"Hey Bitch. Bedtime 'n lights out. You have 10 minutes," he announced, obviously pleased when she took two tentative steps backwards and cast her gaze to the floor as he spoke and invaded her personal space.

She disliked him with a passion. Whenever he had the chance to beat her he did. Of course he couldn't do that openly, but when they thought it necessary to restrain her, he always managed to land a punch or two. He seemed to enjoy to terrify her.  
He was one of the nurses that never bothered to tell her his name and like they all did, he didn't use her name. As soon as they had found out that she had 'forgotten' her name, they had stopped using it. More punishment.

Instead this nurse gave her the names bitch or bimbo.

"Hurry, bitch!" he taunted her as he rubbed the knuckles of his fist against her cheek. She swallowed but tried to be brave. He laughed and both men left the room.

They treated her like – something, but not like a grown-up woman. And she was their prisoner, though hopefully not for much longer. Obediently, she followed the order eat and to get ready. The bully checked on her again a little while later, with Pak, the night cycle nurse.

That was the confirmation she needed. This was the night. Sometimes depending on the moods of the nurses or the red eyes, she would be restrained to her bed. Not this evening, though. She'd been good and obedient just the way they wanted her to be.

She stayed awake and changed into her jeans and a t-shirt under the blanket, so the red eyes couldn't see what she was doing. Finally Jin-ho made his rounds. He was in the habit of letting the door swing shut when he left, rather than pulling it closed. She checked her pockets for the hardened paper strip she made out of old meal plates. After the second round she quickly got out of bed and tiptoed to the door like she had practiced. Just before it would snap shut, she shoved the strip between the door and the jam.  
Stayed unmoving by the door until she was positive that the red-eyes night vision had not picked up that she wasn't in bed.  
Then she carefully opened the door and peeked around the corner. There was a white-painted hallway. No one was in sight and she couldn't spot any red-eyes_._

"_Go!"_

Barefoot, she snuck along the wall. Wooden stairs led to a lower level. She hesitated; they would make a noise. But there was no other way. Luck was on her side and no one was alerted. In the adjacent hallway was a an security station with glass windows. Inside that room Jin-ho sat in front of a TV broadcasting a sports game and six monitors, two of them showing her room. She quickly ducked down and crawled by that room so Jin-ho wouldn't accidentally spot her and the loud commentary of the TV concealed any noise that she made. She was so focused on her task that she didn't have any time to wonder why there the monitors showed more rooms than just her own.

The hardest part was almost over. She looked for the exit. The hallway took another turn and an entry revealed a kitchen. She went in and saw the remnants of her evening meal on the counter. Bread, cheese and half a cucumber. She thought about opening the fridge, but it would make noise and time was running out. On a table was a backpack. Quickly she gathered the food that lay out in the open. A large bread knife shimmered in the moonlight that filtered through a window. She put that into the bag as well.

_"Stop dawdling. Get out, Get out!" _

Maybe she should just open the kitchen window and jump out? But there was a lock on the handle, probably wired to an alarm. She couldn't risk it.  
She didn't want to get lost in the house so doubled back the way she'd come. Where was the exit?

"_There it is!"_

Sure enough, she saw a sturdy front door. Only a few yards lay between her and freedom now.

"_Take the shoes and the jacket."_

On a coat rack hung a jacket. She took it, as well as a pair of shoes that sat on the floor. They were a bit too large but they were better than nothing. The front door opened without a problem. Cautiously she closed it again. It was dark outside and cold. The fresh air in her lungs felt wonderful.

"_Stop appreciating the air. Move or it will be the last thing you appreciate!"_

She hurried forward and climbed over the fence that surrounded the property. Looking back, her prison appeared to be a common house. It didn't look any different than the rest of the neighborhood. Oh, they had hidden her well.

She started running through empty streets. She didn't feel like she should stop a car or call for help. She just knew that the man who put her into that room would make sure that she'd seem like a crazy person so she had to keep on running, as far as she could go.

She avoided the main streets, fearing that they might look for her there first. Dawn was approaching fast. She looked for places to hide during the day. The prospect of sharing a carton, box or any other space with a street bum wasn't encouraging. She looked for an abandoned house or a factory. But her path had led her into a very urban area with lots of entertainment venues. She had passed quite a few groups of drunken people and couples making out in the alleys. She walked on, figuring that this area wasn't a good hiding place.

The sun was rising and basked the sky and street in vivid colors. After the monotony of the room it was like walking in a rainbow and she felt overwhelmed. All her senses were overloaded after being deprived from input for years. And yet the sensations were muted, like she was in a fog.

People passed by her. But she couldn't trust them. She sought streets with less and less pedestrian traffic. She made into a nearly empty park. As pathetic as it was she couldn't resist the urge to hug one of the trees, smell its fresh scent, listen to the rustling of leaves, and the feel the texture of the bark. Tears sprang into her face. She tasted the salty fluid with her tongue and realized that she couldn't stay here either.

She compared her get-up with those of the people she encountered. It was sufficiently similar. She had to get off the street. The many cars with tinted glasses and the transport vans circling the streets were a menace. A flash of a memory where she had been forcefully pushed into a van surfaced. Before she would realize what happened her captors could drag her into one of the vehicles. She had to get off the street.

She noticed a shopping mall. It would give her the opportunity to relatively safely pass time until dusk. She entered the place, curious and afraid at the same time.  
Inside it was even more overwhelming than outside. She found it increasingly difficult to endure the sounds of music, voices bundled in a cacophony as a sea of noise around her.

In the jacket she had taken from the coat rack she had found a wallet with some money. She bought herself food from a stand. She was proud having accomplished this feat even though her hands shook and she had wanted to run from the interaction with the stranger. Her voice had been surprisingly strong and charming as she had ordered her selection. And the server had reacted positively to it. He had even smiled at her.

She didn't dare to buy a newspaper. She was curious about the world, but she didn't feel ready to confront the reality of the length of her captivity yet.

She spent the rest of the day drifting from place to place in the mall with out any set goal. Sooner as she had anticipated she found herself out on the streets again. She was exhausted by now and she had wandered back in to the entertainment district. She must have walked in circle. To make matters worse it had begun to rain lightly. Her clothing was not suited for that weather. A narrow alley way would protect her from the wind and some of the rain.

Suddenly, she tripped over a body laying on the pavement. She yelped in surprise as she fell to the ground. She looked closer at the body. She had stumbled upon a woman and she was alive. The woman grumbled something and sat up.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you. Are you hurt?" she inquired and looked for signs of injury.

"_Don't you see she's drunk?"_

"Hey, sweetheart! Wanna go home with me?" the woman slurred and giggled.

She helped the woman up. She couldn't leave her just laying here on the street. Who knows what would happened if she did?

It wasn't an easy task and she was struggling to keep the woman upright. The woman had not only lost the ability to walk straight but was also starting to kiss her clumsily. That had not been her intention! She almost dropped the woman in shock from the nausea of smelling alcohol in her breath.  
"Stop!" she demanded which earned her another giggle from the woman.  
"What is the problem, honey?" the woman looked confused by her refusal.  
Should she just leave the woman in the alley and not burden herself with another problem?

The woman didn't look like she lived here. Her clothing was a little rumpled and wet from the weather but otherwise it looked clean and normal.

"_She is your chance to get off the street! Take her to her home!"_

Good idea! She kept the woman at bay.

"Um, where is your home?" she addressed the woman. That seemed to satisfy the woman and she stopped her advances.

"Let's take my car!"

The woman pointed to one of the cars parked nearby and searched her pockets for the keys. The fugitive propped the woman up against the car and helped her with the key. She opened the passenger door and helped the woman inside. Of course having just escaped her prison she had no driver's license and she could barely remember how to drive. But it would be safer for her to drive than to let a drunken woman do it.

She managed to get some slurred directions out of the woman. The rain picked up and the fugitive was glad to be off the street. The rain smelled wonderful, but it had also gotten cold. She shivered. She wasn't used to a temperature that low and she couldn't figure out the heating in the car. The drive was a bit bumpy at the beginning although she was refamiliarizing herself with the technology much faster than she had anticipated.

"S.. stop, we're here!" the woman drawled.

As ordered by the woman, the escapee parked the car, needing only two attempts. She helped the woman out of the car. Getting up the stairs was a tricky affair but finally they stood inside the messy apartment. What to do? The voice in her head had gotten awfully quiet and she was tired.  
She chose a practical approach; she helped the woman onto her king-sized bed. She even removed the woman's soaked clothing in the darkness of the bedroom. She had to fight off a few more halfhearted advances, but she still made sure that the woman would drink some water so she wouldn't get so sick in the morning.

The woman finally asleep she explored the apartment and took care of herself. The hot shower was heavenly after having wash rags as the only source to clean herself for such a long time. Tired, she toweled herself dry and ate some of the bread. She kept her meager belongings in the backpack next to her on the floor.

Then she looked for blanket and arranged herself a spot to sleep on the carpet. As exhausted as she was she'd deal with her problems again in the morning. Almost instantly, she fell asleep. For now she was content to satisfy her need to sleep. 

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